


the one i've sinned against

by gabriphales



Series: gomens drabble hell [32]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: aziraphale is suffering from harm ocd. through some drunken confessions, and an episode aziraphale doesn't have the strength to handle on his own, crowley finds out - and helps
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: gomens drabble hell [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664713
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	the one i've sinned against

**Author's Note:**

> this is PURE projection at this point but whatcha gonna do whos gonna write it if i dont,, also crowley calling az lamb is underrated and soft goodnight

"i can't touch you." aziraphale mutters. "i - i'm sorry, my darling, i just can't."

his hands shake around the neck of his wine bottle. clutching there so tightly it turns his fingers a sour, yellowish white. his stomach twists inwards, and there's an unsettling sensation of something crawling up throughout his body. aziraphale's never vomited before, but he just might tonight, if the evening doesn't shift its course quickly.

crowley looks at him with an inquisitive, anxious stare. so focused aziraphale can see his pupils shrink and pull thin, the amber gold surrounding them a familiarity that hardly seems permissible in his current emotional state. 

"angel, what's going on? you don't have to apologize, just tell me what's wrong." crowley asks him. it's hazardously tender, bridging a risk aziraphale steeps over with tension in response to. he shuffles backwards in his seat the closer crowley gets to him. every inch the demon leans in a searing presence in his chest - heartburn from the nausea, he decides. that's better than an impending heart attack.

"i'm too - there's nothing bothering me, i'm simply - just simply - oh, _crowley,_ it's horrible. something's gone terribly wrong with me, you have - you have to get away, for your own good!" aziraphale's breathing hardens into something heavy and unrestrained. his palm climbs to the pink of his mouth, lips going pale with the force he exerts there. holding himself back, whether from bile, or saying more than he's already irresponsibly spilled, he isn't sure.

"angel, darling - _lamb,_ lambheart, listen to me. are you alright? there's nothing wrong with you. you have to keep breathing, if you don't breathe, you won't be able to calm down." crowley hushes him, soothing the core of aziraphale's worries as thoroughly as he can. he makes a move to drag aziraphale into his arms. and aziraphale flinches, aziraphale _cries._ such a scared, small sound. crowley's eyes prick with it. hot and angry, full of boiling tears.

"i'm a danger, you can't be near me. i'm going to - i'll inevitably hurt you, somehow, just! go away, i need you to go away, _please._ "

aziraphale curls in on himself then. sobbing quietly, hard, hard enough to leave his body trembling, stomach clenching with foggy, sharp adrenaline. crowley feels helpless, is sure he looks even moreso. he opens his mouth to speak, tongue falling flat in his mouth as he realizes he hasn't got anything to say.

finally, once aziraphale's wasted out the last shudders of his fit, he comes to. rubbing his pinkened, bloodshot eyes, and clearing his throat with a gravely noise.

"i - i'm sorry, dearest. i didn't expect to - to end up acting like that. i suppose the wine must have gotten to me." he says, nursing the mentioned poison still as he speaks. crowley considers taking it away from him.

"does this happen often? do you get like this when you're alone? i mean, what makes you feel like that? you, of all people? a _danger,_ don't kid me, angel." crowley snorts at the simple prospect, grin drying out, cold and humorless, as aziraphale winces from the words alone.

"i will admit it happens sometimes. not as often as it used to."

" _used_ to? how long have you - "

"since paris. seventeen seventy-six." aziraphale blurts before he can stop himself. there's a wild, weightless look to his eyes, like he's just stepped free of his body, and is ready to go taking off any moment now. crowley has to find a way to ground him. crowley has to help, somehow, he knows he can. he just _knows_ it.

his hand skirts closer along the sofa cushion. aziraphale glances down, acknowledges it, and nods his head slightly. with that permission, crowley rests his palm over aziraphale's knee. rubbing there gently, softly - smooth enough to soothe a baby's cries

"why, darling? was it something i said?" crowley asks. aziraphale's frown deepens in increments. he nods his head again, eyes welling once more. there's a sniffle, then a cough, and he gathers himself hurriedly.

"it wasn't your fault, necessarily, i only - when you mentioned what your side gets up to, that it - it does a lot more than _send rude notes,_ i've been petrified ever since then. i didn't - didn't want to get you in trouble by failing a temptation, or something of that sort. and i suppose i just... overtime, i..." 

aziraphale dwindles, dithering over his next few words very carefully. crowley strokes at the junction he can feel through his trousers, the soft bit of his knee, flesh tucked between hard bone. 

"i started fearing i might remind you of them. hell, i mean. and i was frightened - i've been frightened i'll hurt you too." aziraphale's breath catches on the admission, free falling with all that's been laid out before crowley. he feels horrendously exposed like this, all too vulnerable to judgement. but crowley's always been kind to him. crowley's always gentle, even if he doesn't understand. 

he takes his time with aziraphale, goes at his pace, lessens the chase and the thrill for the sole sake of aziraphale's comfort. surely, even like this, aziraphale will come to recognize he's safe with him. his brain knows what his body doesn't, this ridiculous, untempered vessel stuck in the mindset of a cornered prey animal.

"but - why? why would you ever think that? you've never done anything to hurt me. you're _aziraphale,_ we're each other's only friends! nothing dangerous about that."

aziraphale's pallor, if possible, decreases its warmth to a further extent.

"i have thoughts of it. nightmares, i think. while i'm still awake. they'll come popping into my head, and i'm bereft for any respite from them."

crowley softens, then. he's starting to get better grips on the situation at hand. this? this he can handle. he knows what's wrong now. he knows how to help his angel.

with arms outstretched, he invites aziraphale in. and aziraphale, tired and aching, sore all over, desperate for something to cling onto amidst all this feeling of the room spinning, sky falling, floor crumbling out from underneath him, gives in instantly.

and when he starts to cry again, softer than before, crowley knows what to say this time. "shh, love, it's okay. you're not bad, not bad at all. sometimes the things that scare you the most just creep up on you like that. it's not your fault, doesn't mean you wanna do any of it." 

his hand makes cautious peace with the small of aziraphale's back. settling there in patient timing, eager to please, and eager to protect.

"don't blame yourself, angel. promise me you won't blame yourself."

aziraphale sniffles again. crowley can feel him nod against his shoulder.

"i'll try," he mumbles, too worn out for proper talk.

the rest of the night is spent like that, crowley hearing out the worst of aziraphale's fears. calming each and every one individually, until aziraphale's drowsier than he is anxious, and the wine sets the both of them to sleep.

and if aziraphale wakes up the next morning with a head lighter than he's felt in quite some time, he finds there's no words to describe how grateful he is. nevertheless, crowley knows. just as he always does.

**Author's Note:**

> ocd aziraphale rights


End file.
